


Whatever You Want

by LouLa



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Barebacking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 02:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouLa/pseuds/LouLa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie's possessive streak is something Tyler’s seen more and more of over the past few weeks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever You Want

**Author's Note:**

> When in doubt, blame Liz (who needs to also be thanked for not only inspiring this, of course, but fixing it.)

Jamie's possessive streak is something Tyler’s seen more and more of over the past few weeks. But nothing prepares him for what comes after the game against the Blackhawks.

Tyler doesn't even get the chance to make it home, as he usually would, going straight there to see Marshall after a game or practice. Jamie usually comes with him.

Not tonight.

Jamie jams the button to his floor, and knocks Tyler's hand away when he reaches out to press for his own. He gets the point when he feels Jamie's hand curl into the back of his coat and hold him back when he reaches out again. He stands still, silent, until the elevator pings and the doors whoosh open. Jamie shoves Tyler through the opening, hauling him along as he walks fast, impatient towards the door.

He fumbles his keys, something Tyler has never seen him do before, even when they first met, even after they went out on their first date, his hands were sure, they never shook. They’re shaking now. Tyler can feel the tension leaking off of him.

When they get inside, Jamie doesn't even turn the lights on, Tyler doesn't even have a second to take off his coat, or his shoes. As soon as they step through the door, Jamie has him pressed face first to the wall.

“Jesus, Jamie,” Tyler says, alarmed.

There's no response, and Jamie keeps him held there, a strong hand pushed to the center of Tyler's back. The wall is cool against his skin, and Tyler shivers, blinking against the darkness of the foyer, trying to make his eyes adjust more quickly. Jamie grabs one of his ankles roughly, lifting it and pulling Tyler's shoe off without untying it first, and then does the same with the other. His hand leaves Tyler's back but he stays where he is, sure that if he moves, he's going to be pushed back where Jamie wants him.

There's a certain thrill to it, in the dark and quiet, nothing but Jamie's hands on him, doing exactly what he wants. Tyler's breath comes shorter with each second that passes.

Jamie goes for his pants then, yanking them open carelessly, and jerking them down when they're only half undone, pulling them past his hips and down his thighs. His nails catch on Tyler's skin when he reaches up to peel down Tyler's underwear next.

Tyler swears, and then gasps at the feeling of Jamie's hands on his ass, his thumbs digging in where he spreads Tyler open wide, giving Tyler almost no warning at all before he's got his face in there, his ridiculous mustache sharp and bristly where it digs into Tyler's skin, tongue lapping greedy at his hole.

“Fuck,” Tyler curses again, voice stuck high on a whine at the shock, air knocked straight out of his lungs as his forehead thunks forward against the wall. Tyler's hips jerk forward, ass clenching up against too much, too fast.

Jamie isn't having it. The sound he makes can only be described as a growl as he curls his hands around Tyler's hips and pulls him back roughly. Tyler has no choice but to let Jamie guide him or go toppling over, and Tyler is pretty sure if he did fall, Jamie would only follow after him, hell bent on getting his mouth on him.

“Jesus, just wait,” Tyler begs. He'd at least like to get his pants completely off, maybe his jacket too, for Christ's sake, but Jamie is impatient, shoving Tyler's hands away when he tries to push at Jamie's head to stop him long enough to get undressed.

Jamie's hands return to Tyler's hips, extra tight as he pulls him back further, forcing him to arch his back, in a better position for Jamie to really eat him out. Unsteady on his feet, Tyler braces himself against the wall as he tries to work his pants off of his legs. Jamie seems to get what he's doing, and helps push them down and off entirely, though he never stops, tongue flicking quick and then flattening out with long, slow licks at Tyler's hole. Once his pants are off, socks skimmed down far enough for Tyler to get his feet out of them, Jamie's hand trails up Tyler's inner thigh, nails catching along his skin and making him shiver. His thumb presses between Tyler's cheeks, where he's wet with Jamie's spit, and touches at him, rubbing the slick into him, and Tyler's knees almost buckle.

The finger pushes in easy, straight to the knuckle until Tyler squeezes around it, moaning. Tyler frees a hand up from the wall, leaning his shoulder to it instead, reaching down to hold his cock as he gets hard so fast it hurts, body finally catching up with Jamie's greediness. Jamie lets go of Tyler's hip and curls his fingers around Tyler's.

Jamie never stops licking, his tongue tracing around the knuckle he has Tyler pegged on, barely fucking it in and out, just enough to give Tyler something to feel. His face is red hot pressed to the wall, still icy despite Tyler panting his breath onto it, sweating it up with his skin.

He's sloppy wet and oversensitive, raw when Jamie finally comes up for air, resting his forehead against Tyler's lower back. He feels hungry and needy, pressed back onto Jamie's thumb as far as he can be. He wants more; he needs more, cock full and heavy between their entwined fingers.

He's not expecting it when Jamie bites down on the round of his hip, teeth latching on sharp and steady. Tyler yells, reaches back and finds Jamie's hair with his fingers ― still damp from his post-game shower, or new, fresh sweat ― and _pulls_ until Jamie lets go, kissing away the sting.

“Take your coat off, your shirt,” Jamie says, the first words he's uttered since they left the AAC.

Tyler does just that, shrugging the coat off and tossing it away, less careful than he's ever been, and pulls his shirt over his head so fast, he's afraid he ripped a seam. But he’s rewarded immediately when Jamie stands and licks up the length of his back, kissing the places he knows Tyler is sore along his ribs and shoulders. Tyler bites down on a whimper when Jamie slides his thumb out of Tyler's ass and untangles their fingers from each other. It's then that he realizes he's fully undressed while Jamie hasn't removed a single item yet.

He tilts his head back on Jamie's shoulder and groans, pushing his ass against the front of Jamie's jeans, rough denim against skin. He knows Jamie is hard, and it makes him want to push back harder, grind on Jamie through his tight jeans, make him as crazy as Tyler feels. Jamie spins him around before he gets that far.

By no means is Tyler steady on his feet, but Jamie gives him nothing to hold on to as he walks him backwards, pushing him too fast for Tyler to keep up with. Inevitably, he trips up and falls, though it's not hard enough to hurt, and he brings Jamie down with him. Tyler clings, legs going tight around Jamie's hips, arms around his neck to not let him get away. And finally, finally, Jamie kisses him, lips swollen already from eating Tyler out, and he groans into the kiss, thinking about it, rubbing his dick up against the soft cotton of Jamie's shirt. Jamie pins him down then, holds him in place and leans over him, close enough to where the light is on in the kitchen now to see.

Jamie looks wrecked, hair messy and standing up in clumps, mouth all red, cheeks and throat flushed with color, but it's his eyes that do Tyler in, desperate and owning, the way he rakes them over Tyler's body like it's his to do what he wants with.

Lifting his hands from where Jamie had pushed them down against the carpet, Tyler grabs two fistfuls of Jamie's shirt, trying to pull him down and grinding up against nothing but air when Jamie refuses to be moved. It makes Tyler ache, his need to be touched and not getting it from Jamie as he simply looks his fill, taking in every slutty twist of Tyler's hips.

“Fuck me,” Tyler begs, “please, Jamie, fuck me.”

And that, at least, seems to set Jamie into action, impatient as he was the moment they stepped through the door, using his strength to haul Tyler up. Tyler is barely on his feet, Jamie's arm tight around his waist, and Jamie is half-carrying him to the bedroom.

Tyler lands on the bed with a bounce, and when he looks up, Jamie isn't joining him, standing at the foot of the bed, stripping off his clothes. As badly as Tyler wants to lie back and watch Jamie take his clothes off, piece by piece, the desperation has seeped from Jamie's skin and into his, a needy itch settled deep within him. He crawls across the bed, finding the lube in the drawer he knows Jamie keeps it in.

Jamie catches his ankle in a tight hold and drags him back across the bed. Tyler twists around onto his back. He's still got his shirt on, his boxers, and his socks, and Tyler licks his lips, spreading his legs for Jamie when he slides his hand up Tyler's thigh.

“Let me watch,” Jamie says.

Tyler doesn't have the wherewithal to put on a show right now; a single-minded focus set on getting himself ready for Jamie to fuck him as quickly as he can. But he's sure to keep his knees bent, his ass tilted in Jamie's direction so he can see what Tyler is doing as he slowly finishes undressing.

There's no finesse to it. Tyler spills lube all over his hand and the bed and doesn't care enough to pause what he's doing. He pushes two fingers in without hesitating and chokes back the sound he wants to make at the stretch.

“Does it hurt?” Jamie asks.

“A little,” Tyler answers honestly.

It's not bad, but it's a lot. His whole body is already sore from the game, and nothing they have done thus far has helped. A little more pain isn't going to kill him.

Jamie's jaw is clenching as he watches Tyler finger himself, shoulders twitching with his impatience, and Tyler isn't surprised when he feels Jamie's fingers joining along with his, one of the working in between his to stretch him open further. Tyler's fingers get replaced with Jamie's quickly, and Tyler just spreads out for him, taking it, three of Jamie's fingers fucking into him deep until neither of them can stand it.

Jamie's thumbs dig into Tyler's thighs hard enough to leave bruises when he lines himself up, pushes into Tyler too fucking slowly. Digging his heels into Jamie's back, Tyler arches, feeling every inch of Jamie's cock splitting him open.

“Tyler,” Jamie groans, and Tyler forces his eyes open. Jamie is watching him, still, and Tyler isn't sure what he's looking for, if it's anything, or if he's just looking to look. Either way, it's like he can't get enough, and Tyler loves it.

He loves the way Jamie marks him up ― hickeys up high on his shoulders, where they'll show beneath the collar of his shirt if he's not careful; bruises in the shape of his fingertips left on his back and hips, where everyone can see them when he's shirtless in the locker room ― loves the ache the next day when Jamie can get away with fucking him rough. He can get away with it now, a few days until their next game.

And Tyler doesn't know what Jamie's waiting for, rolling his hips slowly, not really even fucking, just letting Tyler feel all of him. He tosses his head back, moans deep and throaty before he grabs Jamie's ass and rocks his own hips. “Fuck me,” he whispers. “Stop teasing me with it. I know you want to.”

“Yeah, I want to,” Jamie says.

Tyler nods, eager. “Do it. Whatever you want, Jamie, do it.”

“Whatever I want?” Jamie repeats.

“Yeah, come on. Always, baby, whatever you want, take it.”

Jamie groans at that, sitting back enough that he can look between them, to see right where he's buried deep into Tyler's body. “Only want you,” he says, squeezing tightly at Tyler's thighs.

“Yes,” Tyler says, “I'm yours. Only yours.”

It's like he loses it at that, his eyes rolling back with Tyler's admission, like that's all he really needed to hear. He's got Tyler's knees hitched wide open, and he pulls almost all the way out before slamming in again, hard enough to send Tyler skidding up the bed, knocking the breath right out of him.

He doesn't stop, fucking Tyler so hard he has to brace himself against the headboard with both hands while Jamie pins him down with a hand on Tyler's collarbones. He's not going anywhere. Held there beneath Jamie, being fucked relentlessly, Tyler comes, jerking himself through it while Jamie watches, his head bowed.

Jamie doesn't ease up after Tyler comes, and he's so oversensitive, it hurts, but in a way that has Tyler scratching down Jamie's sweaty back for more. He knows Jamie is close, can feel it in his tensing, rolling muscles and the way he's gasping on every breath.

Tyler expects him to stay buried in deep when he comes, the way he usually does when they fuck bare, messing him up inside and leaving him sloppy with his come all night. But he doesn't, pulling out and rubbing it out on Tyler's skin, dirtying up the crease of Tyler's hip, his chest, his belly with Jamie's come. He stays just like that, sitting between Tyler's thighs, after he's finished, just staring at the mess he made.

Tyler groans, stretches out to try to reach for the tissues on the nightstand, but doesn't get very far. Jamie starts rubbing his come into Tyler's skin, using the flat of his palm to spread it all around. Tyler makes a sound of protest, but it doesn't make a lick of difference, Jamie focusedly circling Tyler's nipples with his calloused, come covered fingers.

“Jamie,” Tyler grumbles, and Jamie glances up to meet his glare and smirks, offering his finger to Tyler.

It's probably a sign of how fucked out and exhausted Tyler is that he doesn't put up that much of a fight before he sucks Jamie's fingers clean. That, and he really, really meant it when he said Jamie could have whatever he wants.


End file.
